


Let the Rain (Come Down)

by a_fearsome_thing



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bonding, Gen, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 16:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12346125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_fearsome_thing/pseuds/a_fearsome_thing
Summary: In the midst of a thunderstorm, Lance and Shiro's clone forge some new ground. It's not what Lance expected.aka Lance makes a new friend and the clone gets a name





	Let the Rain (Come Down)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Have You Ever Seen The Rain?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10143449) by [Cocopops1995](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cocopops1995/pseuds/Cocopops1995). 



> The working title of this was "Lance and Kuron bond over Sara Bareilles", and that still makes me happy so I had to share. 
> 
> It's obviously named after the song of the same title as the fic, but I spent most of the time writing this with Dark and Stormy from [tabletop audio](https://tabletopaudio.com/) in the background.
> 
> Also, this is dedicated to noisypaintersong (or cocopops1995 on here), who wrote a fic a while ago based on a comment I made on tumblr, and it's lovely and beautiful and I might reference it here. You don't need to read to understand, but why wouldn't you?

The clouds hang heavy and dark in the sky, a violet so deep it seems black until lightning flashes to reveal the purple. Valacoon exists on the perpetual brink of a no-holds-barred thunderstorm, but Coran promised that it’s really going to rain today and Lance trusts him—he’s been right about every other planet so far.

Or, well… he’s been right about the weather, at least. Usually.

Plus, all the natives are taking cover inside, which is a pretty good sign. The other Paladins have joined them, holed up somewhere in the warmth, but Lance  _needs_ this.

A strong gust of wind catches at his hair and clothes, and it brings with it the sweet, crisp smell of ozone as electricity prickles along his arm. Anticipation shivers up his spine in the face of the oncoming storm.

The planet teeters on the edge of possibility for the moment between breaths as the skies darken further before it all gives way with a loud  _crack_ and the downpour is unleashed.

Lance turns his face up and closes his eyes against the torrent of rain, the thick drops soaking him in seconds. Lightning flashes through his eyelids, and ground-shaking thunder follows immediately. Wind whips through with fury, sweeping away across the landscape with the promise to return.

He sighs into the chill that settles on his skin, and all his tension drips off his shoulders. He just needs some time to not think about everything that’s happened over the past few months.

Boots crunch on the gravel behind him, loud even under the patter of the rain, and Lance clenches his eyes tighter. Of course.

He breathes through the ache in his chest—he knows who it’s not, who it should be—and plants a smile on his face to greet Coran.

It’s Not-Shiro.

His jaw drops open before a rueful grin twists his face, his shock  giving way quickly to a familiar mix of resentment and regret. Ever since that first rainstorm, it's been his tradition to stand out in the rain with Shiro—why did he think Not-Shiro wouldn’t find him? He’s tried to do everything else Shiro would.

It’s an unfair thought, and the bitterness sits sour in Lance’s gut.

Not-Shiro gives him a tentative smile, and it only serves to rankle Lance further. Uncanny Valley is usually subtly off-putting, like a movie with the sound off just enough that it’s noticeable but not enough to say  _for sure_  that that’s what it is. This time, though, it’s easy to pick up exactly what’s wrong: Lance has never seen Shiro this unsure of anything.

Especially not with one of the team.

“Hey,” Not-Shiro says. The clone is tense as he stands beneath the pounding rain and watches Lance through damp eyelashes, one second from fleeing at the slightest suggestion he’s not welcome. Lightning flashes a double vision of present and memory before Lance’s eyes, but this guy’s fringe isn’t long enough to get into his eyes and he doesn’t run a hand through it to slick it back out of his face.

The illusion shatters, and goosebumps shiver unpleasantly across Lance’s arms.

“Hi,” he says after a moment too long, but it’s enough. The clone stays.

An awkward silence settles between them, side-by-side in the storm but not really  _together_.

They figured out Not-Shiro was, well,  _not Shiro_  weeks ago now, but Lance still hasn’t figured out how he’s supposed to act around him. None of the team has, honestly, but Uncanny Shiro is the worst of them all. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He drifts around the corners of rooms, lurking outside of the group and conversations, always on the fringes. Sometimes, Lance expects him to join in, sees the comment on the tip of his tongue, but Lance will blink and he’ll be gone, the only remnant of his presence the sour feeling in Lance’s stomach.

“I remember the first time I felt rain after escaping the Galra. It had so long—since before the Kerberos mission,” Not-Shiro says out of the blue. His eyes carefully avoid Lance, watching as lightning fractures the horizon.

“But you weren’t—” Lance snaps his mouth shut before he can finish the knee-jerk response. This guy has Shiro’s memories. They  _know_ that. And he knows they know, and he knows that the memories aren’t his. The whole thing is a mess, and Lance doesn’t need to rub it in.

“But I wasn’t there,” he finishes in a tone identical to what Shiro’s would be. His smile is sad as he cants his head towards Lance in acknowledgement of the point, arms crossed over his chest. He clearly means,  _But I’m not Shiro_. He flexes his fingers against his biceps. “I forget, sometimes.”

Guilt wallops into Lance’s chest and his heart constricts.

Not-Shiro tips his head back and closes his eyes, rain streaming down his face, “I remember that time, with you on one side and Keith on the other. I remember feeling like the rain was washing it all away. I remember every time I— _he_ stood outside the Castle with you to feel the storm.” He opens his eyes and smiles, bitter and brittle, at Lance. “ I have the sense memory of all those rainstorms, but this is the first time I’ve ever felt rain.”

Lance doesn’t let himself think. He throws his arms around the startled clone, reacting to the fragile pain in front of him, and holds on even as he tenses in his embrace. Inch by inch, he gives way, individual muscles relaxing until his arms come up to band solidly around Lance’s back. Lance rests his chin on the broad expanse of shoulder in front of him and stays.

Not-Shiro gives almost as good hugs as Hunk. He should hug more often—the way he’s clutching at Lance says he really needs it.

Lance waits for the clone to pull back before he lets go, stepping away to give him space and ignoring the redness of his eyes. He can pretend the wetness on the clone’s face is all from the rain until he gets a sign otherwise.

“Thanks, Lance,” he says, voice subdued but meeting Lance’s gaze. Lance shrugs and shoots him a wink.

“Anything for you, big guy,” he says easily, freezing slightly as it rings true.

He hadn’t realized. The clone’s not Shiro, but he’s  _a_  Shiro, and he was a convincing Shiro for a while. He’s a good guy. Sure he’s not the real deal and his presence is a little unsettling, but having him around is weirdly steadying. Shiro’s irreplaceable, but this guy’s not that bad to have around.

He grins around his conflicting opinions and pushes them away to deal with on his own later. “So, what should we call you?”

The clone stares at him with furrowed brows, the perfect picture of complete bafflement, and Lance takes pity on his unspoken question, “Well, you’re not Shiro, and I have to call you something. What do you call yourself?”

He looks more lost than before. Lance nearly laughs.

“I don’t call myself anything. When would I call myself something?”

“Come on, you never give yourself a pep talk?” Lance asks, ruffling his wet hair only for it to plaster immediately back to his skull. “I find that hard to believe. Pep talks are, like, Shiro’s  _thing_.”

That gets a slow, repetitive shake of his head, as if Lance is the crazy one. He huffs. “We’ll just have to come up with something.”

The confusion doesn’t go away. Instead, the clone looks more bewildered than before, “Why?”

It’s Lance’s turn to stare. “Why what?”

“Why do I need a name?” Lance’s heart breaks with a real, visceral pain.

“Well,” he says slowly, “if you’re gonna stick around, I can’t keep calling you 'Not-Shiro'.”

The surprise in the other man’s widening eyes shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. “I’m sticking around?”

“Wha—” a deep frown creases Lance’s face, “Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you?”

He gets a scoff and a sharp side-eye at that. “Why would I? You don’t need me, and I make you all uncomfortable. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” He shrugs. “The team is better off without me, and once the real Shiro comes back, I’ll be even more redundant than I am now.”

Lance sputters incoherently as he flounders for a response, “But you have to stay!”

“Lance,” his voice is soft and his smile gentle as he places a comforting hand on Lance’s shoulder, but it doesn’t stop the tears from clogging Lance's throat. “It’s okay. I have no purpose here, and I know that. I’m a replacement part for an unnecessary piece. You all are doing so well without me—without him. You’re forming Voltron, you’re expanding the coalition. The Black Lion won’t accept me as a pilot, and I can’t pilot the ship. All I am is a liability and a danger to you all by staying here.”

He says it so reasonably, like his logic isn’t filled with more holes than a sieve. Lance swallows hard—saying it like that…he really believes it. And that means Shiro might believe it, too. Something cracks loose and tears slip down his cheeks.

“You can’t just leave.” His voice is choked, giving away more than he’d wanted, and concern pinches the other man’s face.

“Why are you so fixated on this?”

Lance goes still, crossing hims arm and looking away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Because,” he says lamely, and the rest of the sentence tangles in his own fear and doubt.  _Because you_ _’re not the only one who’s been rejected by a Lion. Because you’re not the only one without a thing. Because, once Shiro comes back, you’re not the only one who doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do._

_Because you're still a Shiro and just as phenomenally talented and useful to the coalition, but what am I without a Lion?_

He curls his arms more tightly around himself and hunches as rain dribbles under his collar. The clone is silent, watching him. Lance finds a smile and shoots it his way, hoping it’s not as unsteady as it feels. He uncurls and forces false confidence into his shoulders. “Everyone deserves a name,” he tries again, and it’s no less true. It’s just easier to say. “You’re still a person. And we want you on the team.”

The last part might be overstepping for the others, because Keith and Pidge are definitely conflicted in how they feel about the clone, but Lancey Lance will make it happen. They just need some time, and a little motivation.

The clone continues to study him, and Lance injects another burst of sparkle into his grin. After a beat, the clone finally looks away and back out towards the horizon, voice thoughtful as he says, “I remember the Galra saying something about project Kuron.”

“ _No_ ,” Lance shoots it down with a passionate vehemence that draws wide eyes. “This is  _your_  name. It can’t be anything the Galra gave you, nothing to do with them. It’s  _yours_.”

The surprise softens, and a small smile quirks up on the clone’s lips. “Alright,” he agrees, easy, and Lance settles.

And thinks. “What about Finn? That seems appropriate.” The original stormtroopers were clones, after all. Plus there’s the whole “turning his back on the evil empire he was bred to serve” thing.

“Finn wasn’t a pilot,” is the immediate response, and Lance’s smile is more real now. He’s actually considering it, which probably means he’s considering staying, too.

And it means the Galra decided  _Star Wars_ was important enough to steal from Shiro’s brain and put into their clone. Somehow. However that works.

“Connor?” he suggests, humor twisting the words, “Or, no, even better, what about Roy?”

That provokes a laugh, “I’m not naming myself after a comic book, or a cartoon.” Delight fizzles through Lance—that means Shiro’s a comic nerd. “Or at least not one that’s not Japanese.”

“I’m not calling you Naruto,” Lance says, and the clone laughs. Warmth blossoms in his chest at the declaration of a preference—it’s the first time he’s heard the guy want something for himself. He nods as seriously as he can with a broad grin on his face. “You might have to come up with this one, buddy.”

The Nameless One crosses his arms and his gaze settles into a thousand yard stare, his bottom lip jutting out, just a little. The rain beats a tattoo around them. Lance waits.

And waits.

And waits.

He forgot how long Shiro can stay still, and it’s taking everything in him not to fidget because this is  _important_ , so he faces the clouds and relaxes into the storm.

“Ryou.”

The quiet declaration brings Lance back to himself, and he swings his head to look at a pensive…Ryou.

“Ryou?” Curiosity is killing him, but he holds in the wild possibilities spinning in his head. He’s not going to pry unless Ryou wants to share. But he  _really wants to know_.

Ryou nods absently, brow furrowing. “I remember…there’s something. I almost…” frustration colors his voice. “It means something. I don’t know what. It feels right.”

Lance nods, smiling, “I like it.” He sticks his hand out, “Nice to meet you, Ryou.”

And Ryou smiles back at him, an honest, shy joy lighting his face like Lance hasn’t seen since he first cut his hair. He takes Lance’s hand and shakes it before letting go.

Beaming, Lance throws his hands behind his head and starts walking backwards. “What d’you say we go dry off and introduce you to the team?” He winks and pivots to head up the slope before Ryou stops him with a “Lance.”

There’s so much gratitude in his eyes when Lance turns around that it makes him fidget and look away.

“I’m sorry I ruined your storm,” Ryou says, and Lance opens his mouth to protest, but Ryou continues before he can make a sound, “but thank you.” He smiles at him, shaking his head. “You always come through for us when we need you.”

Lance’s face burns as pleasure glows warmly in his chest. “We’re a team. It’s what a team does,” he says, waving away the praise even as he imprints the moment permanently into his brain.

Ryou looks around pointedly, eyebrow raised, “I don’t see anyone else out here.”

Lance crosses and uncrosses his arms, “Well, yeah, but you found me. The others would have done the same thing if you had gone to them.”

Ryou hums, unconvinced. “Maybe. But you’re the only one who noticed something was wrong and found a way to help.” He walks over to Lance and claps a hand on his shoulder, expression soft and filled with pride. “Give yourself some more credit, Lance. You have the sharpest eyes of all of us.”

Happiness beams out of Lance’s smile and the words he can’t find to say get choked in his throat anyway. He clears the lump lodged there and says, only slightly unsteadily, “Let’s go introduce you to the rest of the team, Ryou.”

Despite the rain, the warmth of Ryou’s hand on his shoulder lingers the entire way back to the Castle.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, go read [her short ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10143449). It's much less wordy. 
> 
> I wanted to get this out before the new season, because yup. It's not AU until that happens. 
> 
> **Edit:** IT'S NOT AU YET! WHICH MEANS THIS IS EDITED AGAIN IF YOU READ IT BEFORE SEASON 4 AIRED. Well. Mostly not AU.
> 
> Also, I feel like Lance would be the person to do this. Him or Coran, but I didn't finish the Coran one in time. In terms of not giving himself enough credit, I think Lance is the sort of person that doesn't think much of helping other people with emotional things. It just comes naturally to him, and he doesn't think it's anything special that he does, because he just _does_ it. It's not a marketable skill, like piloting, so he is more dismissive of praise for it. 
> 
> For the name, I know it's a popular name to chose because of the previous incarnations, and I loved it. I don't know really what other people have done to incorporate it, cause I haven't really had time to read lately, but I like the idea that Shiro nearly had a little brother who would have been named Ryou. That's what he's remembering here. 
> 
> Don't ask how the Galra stole memories, cause my theory doesn't exactly align with how I wrote it here. Shhhhhh.
> 
> If there are mistakes, please let me know. I've been sleep deprived.
> 
> As always, reviews are appreciated with every fiber of my being, and if you want, come chat on [tumblr!](https://thehouseofthebrave.tumblr.com)


End file.
